


Like A Wrecking Ball

by audiaphilios



Series: From Tumblr With Lo-- [46]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9835151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audiaphilios/pseuds/audiaphilios
Summary: “Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down.”“I think I’m being terrifically fucking calm, given the situation. A giant just flung someone through a fucking plate-glass window.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinspiration](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinspiration/gifts).



> I'm finally getting around to writing some old prompts, so this one skips ahead of my current mission to archive my older fics, and is fresh off the presses, so to speak.
> 
> This prompt was courtesy of one of my fandom (and non-fandom) faves, sinspiration, when I opened up prompts for like an hour back in October. Sorry it’s taken so long, but I promise I’ll get through all of them eventually!
> 
> The prompt:  
> Oh right! Snowy/Tater! Tater is a superhero. Snowy just wants to finish his fucking grocery shopping in piece. Insert a Villain. 
> 
> My response:  
> I didn’t go into the villain, but there is some backstory here I may end up writing in a continuation. It’s just 130am and this story’s already 2.8k describing essentially one hour in the life. So yeah, superhero Snowtots below the cut!
> 
> [Originally posted to tumblr February 17, 2017.](http://audiaphilios.tumblr.com/post/157312716965/like-a-wrecking-ball)

Denis Sosnowski was not an insomniac, no matter what his sister insisted. He was just… a night owl, really. Plenty of people were, that was just the way his body worked. And the fact that he didn’t get much sleep during the day was more due to the rest of the world’s insistence on operating while the cursed daystar was out rather than any glitch of brain chemistry on his part.

That was the story he told himself every time 3am found him in the aisles of the local Sam’s, one of the few places open all night in Providence. It wasn’t the best neighborhood, but Denis was tall enough and broad enough to deter any would-be troublemakers. Besides, he’d learned long ago that if you keep your head down, most people won’t bother you. It was another benefit to doing his grocery shopping at this hour, if you could call Poptarts and Gatorade groceries. His sister wouldn’t, but she was a grad student living off of ramen, so she really had no room to speak.

He’d just taken out his phone to send her a picture of the sale on Roast Beef flavor when someone crashed through the front of the store. Not a drunk stumbling through the door, which was something Denis had seen on more than one of his late-night shopping trips, but through the windows lining the front. And, given his vantage point, they’d entered entirely horizontal. That was…not usual.

His reaction time may not be the greatest, what with the lack of sleep and possible brain glitches, but he had his wits about him enough to do what any sensible 20-something in this town would: hit the Record Video button on his camera app, because anything that sends a body flying sideways through a window is likely to soon follow.

It took him a moment to register the screams of guy behind the counter, a nice enough guy named Nate, or something like it, who was often on the night shift when Denis came in. Letting his attention drift back from the counter, Denis realized that the force responsible had shown up, and—Christ, but he was a giant. Making an assessment quick enough that he knew he’d be bragging to Karina about— if, now that he thought about it, he managed to survive tonight— he gauged the height and flimsiness of the chest-high shelves between him and what was left of the windows, the distance to the counter, and the location of the store’s backroom, then made a quick dash for the back room, grabbing Nate by the collar and hauling him along while the two toughs started to duke it out, sending bottles and bags flying as they crashed through the merchandise.

Once in the backroom, he shoved Nate towards the desk and the bank of surveillance monitors, handing over his cell phone as he barricaded the door then grabbed the landline.

“Keep my camera on the security footage, okay? I’m calling the cops.”

Nate seemed to calm down with orders and obliged, while Denis dialed 911.

“Hi, I need to report a—fuck, well, I guess you could call it a breaking and entering. Shit. I mean, sorry. Look, I’m calling from the Sam’s on Plainfield, between Hartford and Manton. Some guy just fucking through another one through the goddamned windows, and they’re wrecking the place.”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down.”

“I think I’m being terrifically fucking calm, given the situation. A giant just flung someone through a fucking plate-glass window.”

“Yes, sir. We’ve already got policemen on the way—we’ve had a report of hero activity from your neighborhood tonight, so—”

“What? I didn’t get any notifica—” Denis cut off shortly as the distinctive _pa-ding!_ sounded from the desk where Nate was still recording the recordings. “Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me. Aren’t they supposed to give notice _before_ they start patrols?”

The dispatcher, at least, had the good grace to sound embarrassed.

“Um, yes, sir. But the new guy’s still getting the hang of how we do things around here.”

“How the fuck did he get his license if he can’t follow protocol?”

“Look, sir, if _you_ want to donate time and resources to acclimate Superskilled Workers to Providence, believe me, we would _love_ the help. Police work is not as easy as Law  & Order would have you believe, and we here at the PPD are _grateful_ we’ve been allocated a visa for an H-1X worker, do you even _know_ how tough the competition is? And just because we have the visa allocation doesn’t mean we’re given any budget beyond what a normal new employee might garner, never mind the extraordinary requirements SWs bring. You don’t even know the kind of cuts we’ve had to deal with!”

“You’re right, I don’t, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I just moved here a few weeks ago, from a city with a bigger force. I apologize, I’m sorry. Okay. You said the police were on their way?”

The front of the store had gone suspiciously quiet while the dispatcher ranted, but Denis was not about to stick his head out there.

“Yes sir, they should be there in under two minutes.”

“Okay, great, thanks. Let them know there are a couple of guys barricaded in the staff room, please?”

“Will do. Do you want to stay on the line until they get there?”

“Um, no, that’s fine. Thanks a bunch, you did a great job, sorry about the misunderstanding, thanks for all your hard work.”

Denis hung up without waiting for a response and turned to Nate, who seemed to have calmed down entirely. He was watching Denis, though he kept the phone trained on the TVs.

“So, um. Why did you want me to record the security footage? Our cameras are already recording.”

There was a knock at the door, and Denis checked the monitor before taking his phone back and tucking it in his boot, adjusting his pant leg over it.

“This is why,” he said, standing up and pointing at the screen. Nate turned to look.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly. And do you hear anything?”

The knock sounded again, and Nate started. Denis shook his head and turned to lean against the desk, keeping an eye on the door at the other end of the narrow room.

“No sirens. We’ll stay here a little while longer. I’ve seen ‘em come after the footage before.”

Nate looked halfway to screaming again, and the next knock only upped that percentage. Denis shook his head.

“The cops are almost here, we’ll wait till they arrive, thank you!” he called out.

“Is okay! Just me, is Masher!”

_Masher_ , Denis mouthed the name to Nate, who shook his head quickly. Then again, he might have just been trembling.

“Sorry bro, don’t know you. Gonna have to wait.”

A thunk, rather than a knock. Denis wondered if that was the giant’s head hitting the door. He wasn’t entirely sure if the hero was the one throwing or being thrown through the window—he hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy, who’d been standing on the other side of the busted window when Denis saw him, backlit rather dramatically by the streetlight outside.

“Is fine, I wait.” A heavy sigh. “Not very good first night on job. Sorry about windows.”

Denis pulled his eyes away from the door to look at Nate again. The “halfway to screaming” look had been replaced with “halfway to panicked hysteria”. Neither was a particularly good look on the poor kid, so Denis tried to lighten the mood.

“At least your boss will have hero insurance, right?” Unfortunately, Nate only got paler.

“Not, not since Cambria left in 2012. He said it was extortion, to pay for a hero services we didn’t get.”

“Oh, well. I mean, that makes sense. Surely the police will…” He thought back to his conversation with the dispatcher. “Hunh.”

Thankfully, the sound of sirens cut off that train of thought. He straightened up and looked over to Nate.

“Well, you may want to pop the tape on that and misfile it real quick, in case your boss wants to bring a lawsuit. Don’t know how successful he’d usually be, but the PD’s kind of botched the launch on this guy so there’s probably a good chance.”

Nate brightened at that and got to work. Denis checked the monitors and walked towards the door.

“You still out there, Masher?”

“Yes, yes. Policemen here. I am sorry for mess.”

Another voice came from the other side of the door.

“Hello sir, I’m Officer Martinez, badge number 814. You can go ahead and let us in now.”

“Gimme just a moment move this stuff out of the way.”

Denis righted the filing cabinets and shoved the crates of non-perishables out of the way as best he could. On the plus side, he thought, at least he hadn’t wrecked the back room as much as the front had been.

Nate came over as Denis was getting the door open, and promptly dropped to the ground.

“What the fuck?!” Denis shouted, throwing his whole weight behind the door, catching someone’s fingers along the way.

“No, no! Am sorry!”

“What the fuck did you do to him!”

“Sir, open the door, it’s okay.”

“It is clearly not okay, what the _fuck_ was that?!”

“Am sorry!”

“Sir, Masher did nothing—”

“Someone did!”

“It’s alright, I’m Officer Carter—”

“You can be Officer fucking Beyoncé for all I care—”

“Sorry! I step back, I am too blood.”

“ _Too **blood?!**_ What the ever-loving fuck—”

“Sorry I try—my fingers.”

Denis noticed the quickly-purpling fingers trying to wiggle. Realizing he was in a pretty untenable situation, he figured he could only roll with it. He took a deep breath and flung open the door.

“ _What the fuck!_ ”

_Too blood_ was about right, the guy looked like he had bathed in it—but the meek way he was clutching his injured hand to his chest was entirely incongruous with his appearance. The officers flanking him looked both fond and exasperated, another attitude better suited to a four-year-old than the man in front of him.

“Can we come in?” Officer Martinez was apparently the shorter one. “We’d like to get help for your customer there.”

“My cust—oh no, no. That’s the guy who works here.”

“So he’s the one that got Gloria so cheesed off?”

“Uh, no. That was me. Nate here’s a little…” Denis paused, because the whole fainting-at-the-sight-of-blood theory made sense in context. “A little sensitive. To excitement.”

Officer Carter squeezed into the room and knelt beside him.

“Did he hit his head on the way down?”

“I honestly don’t know, I was too busy trying to get the door shut on your Colossus there.”

Carter exchanged that Look again with Martinez, that parent-of-an-idiot-child look, and Denis brought his gaze up to meet said idiot child’s.

“Masher, I take it?”

The blood-covered giant went to reach out his hand, flinched, and clearly thought better of it. He offered a kind of ducked head-tilt of acknowledgement, instead. Again, Denis was struck by the dissonance of the move—but, now that he thought about it, he knew all too well the need to make yourself look smaller and less threatening. He finds himself smiling as he moves out of the staff room, allowing Martinez in to help his partner with the slowly-coming-round Nate.

“Well, did you get your guy, at least?”

“Ah, yes. Yes, he is in. Um.”

“Custody?” “Car.”

“Oh,” Denis says, as Masher gestures to the flashing lights coming through the front of the shop, rather more directly than they would usually.

“Will make him pay,” Masher offers, and for a minute Denis is taken aback.

“I kinda think you already have,” he says, surveying the wreckage of the shop—crushed shelves, smashed refrigerators, demolished food packaging. The cardboard Slim Jim display seems to have survived unscathed, however. The Roast Beef ramen, unfortunately, has not. Karina will be disappointed. Maybe. Probably not, given the phone still safely tucked into his boot. If asked, he’ll tell the cops he dropped it when the guy came through the window.

“No, for windows,” Masher says, gesturing again to the storefront.

“Oh, yeah. That’d probably be good. Do a lot to make up for the mess, I think. First night on the job, you said?”

“Yes. I am not here very long, but like city so far.” Masher takes a look around the detritus as well. “Am hoping to make good impression.”

Denis laughs, not entirely meaning to, and bends over to grab a small packet from the destroyed toiletries aisle. He turns to offer the wet wipes to Masher, catching his eyes flicking up quickly. Denis smiles again.

“ _Welcome to Providence,_ ” he offers in Russian.

“ _You are Russian?_ ” Masher’s face lights up, even as his fingers slip and struggle with the pull-tab adhesive. Denis takes pity on him and reaches over to open them himself.

“Nah, Polish. But I used to have some coworkers who taught me a thing or two.”

“Am liking Providence better! You speak Russian, you are Russian friends here—”

“Uh, no. Actually. They’re… in another city. I moved here not long ago, too.”

“Is better, then! We learn Providence together!”

Just the thought of what Denis has lost, what he’s left behind, is usually enough to drop his mood, but Masher’s obvious cheerfulness—and his slowly revealed features—are distracting Denis easily enough. He wonders at his casual attraction to a man covered in blood, but then considers—after ten years of professional hockey, he’s gotten past the whole being-grossed-out thing. At least Masher seems to have all of his teeth.

The officers seemed to have roused Nate, and Carter walks him to the ambulance that’s been idling outside as Martinez approaches the two of them.

“Yeah, Masher. That’d be. That’d be cool.”

Masher beams, and by the time Martinez reaches them the policeman has his notepad out and looks ready for business.

“Um, sorry, Officer Martinez. Would it be okay if I gave you my details, and came by the station tomorrow? It’s nearly 4am, and I know when the adrenaline drop hits I’ll be out like a light.” It’s not a lie—for the first time in weeks, Denis feels like he could actually fall asleep as soon as he gets horizontal. Maybe sooner, if he doesn’t make his way home quickly.

The officer takes pity on him, and Denis maintains eye contact with Masher as he recites his name and contact details and sets up an interview time.

“You walk here?” Masher asks when they’re done. “I walk you home.”

Denis smiles—god, when was the last time he smiled this much when talking to someone who wasn’t his sister?—and shakes his head.

“That’s alright, I’m not far. Besides, I’m sure you’ve got things to do. If nothing else, you’ll want to wash up properly, or you’ll scare another person into fainting.”

“I am not scary! Marty, tell him, not scary!”

“Sorry, Tater Tot, but I’d listen to what this guy says. You’ve already laid out two people tonight.”

Masher—Tater Tot?!—looks scandalized, and Denis tries to keep his expression under control. It doesn’t work.

“Thanks anyway, Tater Tot,” he grins. “I’ll see you around.”

Masher nods solemnly, but his eyes are twinkling.

“Yes, Mr. Sosnowski. I will see you.”

He crosses over the busted pavement in front of the shop, looking both directions before crossing the street. He avoids eye contact with Nate, who’s still in the back of the ambulance, and glances curiously at the hunched figure in the back of the reinforced police car. In the morning, Denis will figure out how to tell Karina about his night, but for now he lets his feet carry him the four familiar blocks to his apartment building.

He falls into bed and sleep easily, and it’s not until the afternoon that he wakes up, ready to call his sister and tell her about his night, before heading in to his meeting with Officer Martinez.

There’s a text from an unfamiliar number already waiting for him.

_You calling me Tater Tot, I am giving you new name))))_

He almost replies, _My teammates used to call me Saucy_ , but hesitates. His phone chimes with another message before he can overthink that.

_I am thinking Snowy. Is good name, yes?_

His stupid face is betraying him again, so he decides to be honest, and just types a series of smiling emoji.

He hits send before he can overthink that, too, and calls his sister.


End file.
